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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637844">To the man who taught me warmth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotarouoreki/pseuds/Hotarouoreki'>Hotarouoreki</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Katekyou Hitman Reborn!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, lonely tsuna, student tsuna, teacher reborn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:07:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,523</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotarouoreki/pseuds/Hotarouoreki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's strange how the people we least expect to help us, can become our greatest saviors in the end. Isn't that right Reborn?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To the man who taught me warmth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>How are you Reborn?</p>
<p>It’s April 13th, 2020 today. That means it’s been 8 years since I met you. 7 if you want to discount the first year we spent together. We weren’t exactly familiar with one another then. In fact, I cared very little for you when we first met. You were just an English teacher to me, nothing more, nothing less. We got along fine, but our interactions were that of your typical student and professor. Professional if you will.</p>
<p>You were different. It’s not everyday that you see a teacher with a knack of pushing student’s buttons with a hidden agenda. A pure one at that. But again, although I could tell that you were more of a “tough love” kind of individual, I never experienced it for myself. At least, not until year two of our relationship.</p>
<p>It changed a lot.<br/>-<br/>When I saw your name on my class schedule, I couldn’t help but smile. Your sharp tongue could be quite amusing to bear witness to. And although your workload was nothing to laugh about, I never found myself bored in your class. </p>
<p>So when I walked into your class, only to have you roll your eyes once your eyes landed on me, I knew I was in for an interesting year. You spent the first class explaining the syllabus, and even though the first week was used to “settle in” and “get to know each other,” you had a powerpoint set up on day 2, ready to teach us our first lesson. More than half the class groaned, not expecting a quiz meant to evaluate their level of knowledge so quickly. </p>
<p>“How typical of you.” I thought to myself as I watched you pass the quizzes out.</p>
<p>Things slowly began to unfold after that. As our bond grew closer. In a way I began to unravel.<br/>-<br/>Do you remember the first time you saw my arm on accident? You were going student to student signing their agenda as proof that you witnessed our homework assignment written down, you know, to avoid the whole, “I didn’t know we had homework bullshit” people liked to pull. </p>
<p>When you got to me, I reached down to retrieve my notebook from my bag. It was here that the sleeve of my sweater rose ever so slightly, exposing my wrist. You glanced at it briefly and then to my face before silently signing my agenda and moving on. </p>
<p>As I pulled my sleeve down, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread at having revealed such a thing to you. I silently prayed that you wouldn’t change the way you treated me after this interaction, but, you did.  Perhaps it was pity, perhaps it was not. I don’t really care though, not when I gained a year of warmth after that.<br/>-<br/>And by warmth, I mean a scorching fire that was unrelenting and had no intentions of stopping once lit up. </p>
<p>You became merciless after that. The workload increased. The lessons were harder to comprehend. But of course this didn’t stop you from calling on me only to undermine my response. </p>
<p>You threw insults around like they were nothing. If I was wrong, you made that clear to all. It’s interesting how you pushed my buttons with the intentions of both making me snap, but also be indifferent to the taunts of others. You were issuing me a challenge, daring me to prove you wrong with results even you couldn’t deny. </p>
<p>It was clever.</p>
<p>Others saw it differently though. </p>
<p>They grew confused at your habit of constantly picking on me. Some worried that I would one day burst into tears as the sensitive individual they saw me as. They were unaware after all. They didn’t see the mask on my face as you did. They saw innocence, you saw that gone. </p>
<p>For it was..<br/>-<br/>You were subtle with your care towards me. </p>
<p>You grew used to glancing down at my long sleeves each time I walked into your room but never said anything. Not bluntly at least. </p>
<p>The first time you asked me how I got the bruise on my arm, I looked into your eyes and had a lie slip off my tongue like it meant nothing. You signed my agenda and simply moved on. </p>
<p>The next time you asked, I lied but with a smile. The people around us laughed at my joke over being clumsy. You just starred.</p>
<p>I wore a short sleeve the next time you saw my arm. This time it was fully exposed to everyone’s eyes. I went as far as to hold my arm out like it was something to be admired. And when you came to me, I looked at you with an expression that dared you to ask where it came from. </p>
<p>You didn’t. In fact, you didn’t speak to me for the entire class. I think it bothered you that I put on a sweater after you moved away. <br/>-<br/>I was absent often this year. Whether due to sickness, or illness, who’s to say. It was a well known occurrence by our grade. I was often subject to teasing for it, some jokes more lighthearted than others. I always told people I was sick, and people couldn’t wrap their heads around a person who missed a class or two each week. </p>
<p>You didn’t either. So I wasn’t surprised when you lectured me about the harms of being absent too often.</p>
<p> I didn’t believe you though, or anyone for that matter. I didn’t really care.<br/>-<br/>You eventually gave me a nickname for my title of absentee. </p>
<p>Dame-Tsuna</p>
<p>A name that was both an insult and contradiction all at once. My A in your class further proving the joke that was this nickname of mine. </p>
<p>I remember the time our principal came to evaluate our class and the sneer he sent my way when you called out to me. Going as far as to pull me out of class and reprimand me.</p>
<p>It was unnecessary and you made sure to say such, but the bitterness in my heart had already settled by then. And not even your hand on my shoulder brought me any comfort once he was gone. </p>
<p>You called me by name the next day. And I both hated and appreciated the gesture. </p>
<p>I disappeared for 4 days after that. </p>
<p>Once I returned, you smacked my head with the stack of missed work before softly saying, “Welcome back Dame-Tsuna.”</p>
<p>It felt like you were welcoming me back home and in a way, you were.<br/>-<br/>Do you remember the day you gave each student a private evaluation? You left me for last and as I sat in the chair across from yours, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. </p>
<p>You stared at me before you claimed that my work was abysmal and that you’d never seen someone as bad as me. </p>
<p>It made you sliding my list of straight A’s all the more amusing. </p>
<p>You always changed when I found you alone. You were less intense and the definition of serene. </p>
<p>It was during this evaluation that I finally looked at you. </p>
<p>The details of your face so easy to study and your eyes piercing my soul. </p>
<p>For a moment I felt as if you were dissecting me like you did to the literature you taught. Which made your onslaught of praise all the more unnerving. </p>
<p>For some reason, I always grew uncomfortable when you did this..The unfamiliarity to your words always leaving me confused</p>
<p>Looking back I realize I was simply shy to be receiving the praise I always aspired to receive from my father. You hand on my head further driving that in.<br/>-<br/>I had mood swings. </p>
<p>They weren’t always obvious, but they spoke of much more than I was willing to explain. </p>
<p>And on this specific day, I was tired. </p>
<p>I didn’t want to speak. I didn’t want to work. I didn’t want to be in that room. </p>
<p>My mind was empty. A decision having already been made earlier that day. And this class was the only thing left before I committed to it. Before I was free.</p>
<p>I told no one, not even you. </p>
<p>Which would explain why you pushed my buttons unaware of how over the edge I already was. </p>
<p>I stayed silent, but my emotions did not. </p>
<p>And so I sat in class with the inability to stop my tears from overflowing, full of sadness over parting in such a manner. </p>
<p>I’ve always been a silent crier. It was something instilled into me but my seat mates realized regardless. </p>
<p>People turned on you then, whispering insults that called you cruel. I wanted to tell them it wasn’t true, but my voice was gone. </p>
<p>You called me out then.</p>
<p>We stood outside in silence before you asked for my forgiveness over your words. </p>
<p>This however only served to make me cry harder as I told you you were wrong. That you were not to blame for this.</p>
<p>You softly asked if the students were possibly mean to me, but it was not that. </p>
<p>You asked if the teachers were inappropriate, but once again I shook my head. </p>
<p>You hesitated before asking me if I was having a bad day and I could only nod. </p>
<p>You tried to hug me, but as touch starved as I was, I feared it much more. </p>
<p>So as I turned around and cried in shame, you could do nothing but stare. </p>
<p>I didn’t tell you, but you seemed to know nonetheless. <br/>-<br/>You asked me to stay after class once I had calmed down. A request that I was quick to accept.</p>
<p>We didn’t speak. I simply did my homework as you answered emails. We simply basked in each other's presence.</p>
<p>Your class was always cold, but I felt warmth that afternoon.<br/>-<br/>Once I finished my work, I announced my departure. </p>
<p>You offered a ride but my home was just around the corner. </p>
<p>You began stalling after that, and I simply stared at you, mask gone and tired as can be.</p>
<p>You asked if my parents were home. I told you I only saw my mom on the weekends. You nodded before we walked out of your class. I collected my coat from my locker as you locked up your room. </p>
<p>We walked out together and as we parted, you towards the car park and me towards the path to my home. I expected that to be the end of it. But then you called out my name.</p>
<p>“I’ll see you tomorrow Dame-Tsuna.” You said, eyes glinting as I met your gaze.</p>
<p>I stared at you before bowing and walking away. </p>
<p>I wonder if you watched me go with the uncertainty that it might be the last. <br/>-<br/>Your eyes glistened when you hit me with your stack of papers as I walked into class the next day<br/>-<br/>Do you recall the time that you picked up my hand and asked me if I saw sick. </p>
<p>My hand was cold and lacked any type of warmth. You mentioned how abnormal it was for my palm to lack the typical flush of red people had.  </p>
<p>I ignored you not enjoying the idea of someone fretting over my health. A reason I stayed home when I was unwell. </p>
<p>Which is why I felt a sense of irritation when you felt my forehead with your hand. </p>
<p>My hand moved on its own, slapping yours away. The class stared at us in confusion as I glared at you and said I was fine. You let me go but wrote me a pass to the nurses office when you saw me with my head down in the middle of class. </p>
<p>I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to risk having to call my mom. But you threatened to take me yourself if I continued to be stubborn. </p>
<p>So I grabbed my things and went down to the first floor, but instead of going to the nurse, I went home. Security didn’t care as all passes were the same, even those for early dismissal. </p>
<p>The next class you had a knowing look in your eye and simply told me to, “never do that again” when you signed. <br/>-<br/>We had a poetry segment and honestly, I hated it. </p>
<p>You assigned us a poetry book that required 7 poems and I could barely create 1 I was proud of. </p>
<p>Poetry felt too difficult to create, for it sometimes demanded that you show your secrets, and I didn’t like the idea of giving someone something to dissect me with. </p>
<p>When a week has passed and I had yet to turn in the assignment, you questioned my actions as I wasn’t prone to doing this. When I told you the truth, you simply told me I was overthinking, and that you had no expectations of any of us being the next Robert Frost.</p>
<p>This both soothed me and changed nothing at all. For I still struggled once I returned home, but I turned in the assignment nonetheless.</p>
<p>I trashed the book once you returned it graded. You rose your brow at the aggressive nature of me ripping the paper into shreds. I simply told you that trash was to be destroyed.<br/>-<br/>Near our time of departure, you became more playful as I no longer hid things away from you. You learned my true nature, and to this day, I don’t think anyone else can say the same. <br/>-<br/>During your last class, you gave me certificates that proved my hard work and although they meant nothing to me, I still felt warmth in receiving them from you. <br/>-<br/>We had a picnic on our last day of school and you casually placed a plate of food in front of me when you noticed I avoided the food like the plague. I took a bite of my food as a means to appease you.<br/>-<br/>It’s tradition to have your yearbook signed with messages from classmates and teachers alike.</p>
<p>I didn’t have a yearbook, but you still gave me a message nonetheless. </p>
<p>Privately of course. <br/>-<br/>Under a tree of shade you told me to take care of myself. To be brave and to become the great person you knew I was capable of. To show the world the person I was and to leave no room for misunderstandings.</p>
<p>Your words although simple, meant the world to me. For I never had someone believe in me until you came around. </p>
<p>So as I said thank you, for everything, you simply shook your head and ruffled my hair. <br/>-<br/>I always intended to return to you before I attended college. But by the time that came around, you had relocated. Something about being needed in Italy. </p>
<p>A part of me, was heartbroken. Still is in fact.</p>
<p>I never got to tell you everything I became thanks to you. </p>
<p>I sometimes wonder how you are. I hope you're okay. I really miss you. Thanks for teaching me not only what a guardian was, but also what it felt like to have someone who cared. </p>
<p>May our paths cross again</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story is inspired by a teacher I had years ago, so Reborn may be ooc. I always found something about Reborn so comforting as I watched the anime, I now know why.<br/>If you made it to the end, thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this, Please stay safe, and take care of yourself!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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